


Skin and Bones

by cirquedusoleil



Series: Just Breathe In [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, High School, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:09:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cirquedusoleil/pseuds/cirquedusoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am skin and bones<br/>I am skin and bones<br/>I am skin and bones</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin and Bones

Stiles blinks awake. 

 

His room is dark, but in the way that a room is dark so early in the morning; with just a hint of light. The silence of his room echoes, and he turns his head to the right. His alarm clock glows a faint green, reading 5:27am. He beat it by three minutes. He won.

 

He turns his head back to his center and stares up at the ceiling. No thought enters his mind, like how the gray paint is cracking or how there is a lump in the shape of a baby. He just stares, absently waiting for the three minutes to pass. 

 

When the shrill ring pierces the air, he waits, letting the sound fill the air. His arm moves of its own accord, and the ringing stops. He lies there for just a moment, for just a moment longer. 

 

Just a moment.

 

Just a

 

Just

 

\+ + +

 

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, watching his spoon lift the cereal to his mouth, when his dad walks down the stairs. The kitchen is still dark, but edges are tinged with just that little bit of light. The clock reads 6:02, and the Sheriff frowns. 

 

“You gotta hurry up there, kiddo. You don’t wanna be late.” Stiles says nothing, just watches as his father pours himself a cup of coffee then pulls a banana out from the fruit bowl. Stiles feeds another bite of soggy cereal into his mouth. 

 

His dad moves to the pantry, and Stiles doesn’t bother to turn around when he hears glass tinkling and the beep of the safe being opened. The door to the pantry closes, and two small white pills and one small green one are placed next to his bowl.

 

“Cmon, Stiles, hurry up and take them. I’m going to be late for work, and you’re going to be late for school.” Stiles pools the small amount of milk remaining in his bowl into his spoon, and picks up the small green pill. He places it on the tip of his tongue and pours the milk into his mouth. The pill is bitter as it slides down his throat.

 

The two white pills go down, with minimum choking, and the Sheriff takes a sip of his coffee as he shrugs his coat on. 

 

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight.” He grabs his keys from the front hall table, then looks back at his son.

 

“I love you, Stiles. Very much.” Stiles just nods at him. The Sheriff hesitates for a moment, then turns around and opens the door. He leaves, closing the door behind him, and Stiles is alone.

 

\+ + +

 

It's 6:37, and Stiles doesn't know what to wear. His closet looms, the darkness of his room just starting to lift. He picks up his Green Lantern tee-shirt and slips it on over his head. It smells like laundry detergent and his closet. A dark blue button up is next, and he rolls up the sleeves. His pulls on his favorite pair of ratty blue jeans, then his Vans. 

 

He looks at himself in the mirror and frowns. 

 

His hair looks weird, the pimple on his chin is red and obvious, his stomach spills out over the edge of his jeans, the hair on his arms is too dark, and his legs look huge in the jeans. 

 

He picks up his glasses off his dresser and pushes them on his face. He stares at himself in the mirror, and he doesn’t like what he sees. 

 

\+ + +

 

When he gets to school, it’s 7:15 and the bell rings in three minutes. He parks his jeep in the senior’s parking lot, hikes his backpack over his shoulder, and heads to first period. 

 

Pre-Calculus is easy, but he can’t bring himself to pay attention. The teacher is probably saying something important, something that will be on the next test, but he’s more interested in the way the colors of his mechanical pencil don’t match. He presses the lead to the paper and draws a simple line. It’s crooked and uneven, but he just watches as the line appears from behind the lead. 

 

He hears his name called, and the teacher asks him to pick a partner and do a problem on the board. He doesn’t know anyone, so he just taps the shoulder of the person sitting next to him and makes his way to the board. They do the problem, correcting each other’s mistakes, and by the time they sit down Stiles is pretty confident that his partner’s name is Justin. Or Jake. 

 

Maybe it’s John.

 

They’re in the middle of the last problem on the homework sheet when the bell rings. He packs up his stuff, and isn’t even close to the first one out of the room.

 

\+ + +

 

English is next, and he has this class with Danny. Danny sits on the opposite side of the room from him, and they make weird faces at each other when the teacher says something obvious. Stiles smiles his way through the class, and he feels a little better about his day. 

 

The teacher assigns an essay that's due in a week, and Stiles is already seeing how long he can put it off for. He’ll do it the night before. Probably.

 

Hopefully.

 

For the rest of the half an hour left in class, they read and annotate their books. Stiles is assigned the Great Gatsby, which he’d read in Sophomore year, but he didn’t complain or ask for a switch. 

 

When the bell rings, he’s the first one out of the room

 

\+ + +

 

  
The next two period pass slowly, with no one he knows there to keep him company. He feels the familiar ache in his chest, but he resists the urge to run to his Guidance Councilor. Ms. Morell is probably sick of seeing him, anyway.

 

He finally gets to US History, which he has with Scott and Isaac. They’re in the computer lab, working on a project that’s due in two days. Scott and Isaac are working together, but since there was an odd number of people, Stiles is working alone. They sit in the same row of three computers, Scott in the middle, Isaac on the left, and Stiles on the right. 

 

Scott and Isaac take out their phones, and share the earbud that’s plugged into Isaac’s phone. They laugh and shove each other as they listen to the song, and they type away on their computers. Stiles tries not to look at them, and types a few words onto his word document. 

 

Scott laughs particularly hard at something on the phone, and reaches over to tap Stiles on the shoulder. Stiles waits, pretending not to see the hand closing in on him. But the tap never comes.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isaac grab Scott’s hand, and when Scott looks confused, shakes his head. Scott frowns, but doesn’t reach for Stiles. 

 

Stiles wants to shrink down into the floor, collapse into a ball so tight that he implodes, cover his ears and eyes and mouth and just make everything stop. 

 

\+ + + 

 

 

When the final bell rings, Stiles slowly walks his way to the front doors, and as he’s walking by his Chemistry class, Derek opens the door and steps out in front of him. Stiles feels his heart skip a beat, and he looks in any direction other than near Derek.

 

Derek, on the other hand, is only looking at him.

 

“Hey Stiles.” he says, smiling. His bunny teeth stick out every so slightly over his lower lip. Stiles forces himself not to stare at them, and smiles back. Derek falls into place beside him, and they walk silently out to the front of the school. 

 

Stiles sees Derek’s car, and he sees his, at the opposite end of the parking lot. Derek glances at him, and smiles again. Stiles grins back, too wide and too enthusiastic. Derek’s smile just seems to grow, and he waves before walking to his car.

 

Stiles spends the entire car ride home with a faint smile curving his lips. 

 

\+ + +

 

 

He curls up on his bed for an hour, watching Youtube videos and just looking for something to entertain him. His therapy session is at 4:00, and it’s 3:48 when he finally pulls on his shoes and heads out to his car. 

 

Dr. Deaton’s office is nice, a small room next to a bunch of other therapist’s rooms. The furniture is minimalistic but bright, and there’s a window that looks down over the street. 

 

The man greets Stiles with a smile, and waves him in. Stiles sits down on the couch, and Deaton takes his place in the armchair across from him. His hands are empty of any writing materials, as they always are. 

 

_“Hi, Stiles.” Dr. Deaton begins, his tone friendly and unassuming. “How have you been?”_

 

Stiles never knows how to answer this, so he just says what he always does.

 

“Good! I’ve been good.” He skips the cursory “and how are you?” because therapists aren’t there to talk about themselves. 

 

Dr. Deaton nods, and leans back in his armchair. 

 

“How has school been going?”

 

“It’s been…going.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Deaton nods in understanding. Stiles thinks that maybe he really does understand.

 

“And, how have your thoughts been? Any ideations?”

 

Stiles looks to his right, and studies the bright orange painting in the corner of the room as he speaks.

 

“Nothing. They’ve been good. I promise.”

 

“I believe you.” Deaton says. 

 

Stiles half listens as Deaton asks him about his day, more focused on the nails digging crescents of pain into his skin.

 

He wasn’t lying.

 

Not really, anyways.  

 

“I’m fine.” he interrupts, stopping Deaton mid sentence. 

 

“I’m fine. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, so, this is a story about depression. I don't know how it is for other people, but this is coming from personal experience. I'm just having a rough night, and I really wanted to write this, so it hasn't been edited or anything like that.


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